Black linework flash sheet on tan paper with designs including a winged key, open book, wand, winged snitch, owl with envelope, sorting hat and hourglass.

Wizarding themed flash sheet

Traditional · Black and grey · Flash

A flash sheet of black outline drawings on tan paper, with a winged key, an open book with a quill, a wand with the word Riddikulus, a stylised doe silhouette beside the word Always, a winged golden snitch, an owl carrying an envelope, a sorting hat with a sword and an hourglass-style device. The linework is bold and even, with no shading, and the words Griffindor! and Always are written in script lettering.

Traditional Key Wing Book Quill Wand Lettering Owl Envelope Sword Hourglass Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The barn owl came down off the moor at dusk, as it had every Tuesday for twenty years, and dropped its envelope on the sorting counter with the air of a grudge. Maud Pemberton had run the Wrenfold post office since before the railway closed, and in all that time the bird had never been late. She waited for it to take its biscuit before she reached for the letter. The address was written in a hand she knew from a shelf of old ledgers, cramped and leaning, the hand of her brother Tobias, who had been dead eleven winters.

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She turned the envelope over. The wax seal showed a doe stepping out of a ring of silver light, and beneath it, pressed hard into the paper, one word: Always. She sat down on the stack of empty post bags and did not open it yet. In the back room the battered hat that had hung on its hook for as long as anyone could remember gave a creak that sounded very much like a laugh. It had been putting children in the wrong pews since her grandmother's day, and Tobias had always claimed it had tried to put him in the cellar.

Inside was a single line: The gold ball is loose again on the top field. Come and catch it before the others do. He had let it go the summer they were boys, a winged thing won at the village fair, and they had chased it across the heather until the light went. Neither of them ever caught it. Maud fetched her coat, a torch and the biscuit tin, and the owl led her up the lane without once looking back.

The ball was sitting in the heather where the gate used to be, wings folded, patient as a stone. She crouched and held out her palm. It rose, hummed once, and settled into her hand as if it had been waiting for her all along, which she supposed was the point of owls.